George
by padfoot's prose
Summary: "You're a smart little boy, aren't you?" Blaine coos, smiling down at the dog, "You with the big, curious eyes and cute, curious ears. You're like our own little Curious George." He bends down, petting the dog and grinning too wide and too happy as it snuffles at his palm. Kurt sighs. He knows exactly how this is going to end.
1. Christmas Dinner

**George**

**chapter 1: Christmas Dinner**

**_by padfoot_**

* * *

**This was written as a Christmas present for midnightfeather. Many thanks to her for firstly prompting me to write it, and secondly for giving me permission to share it with all of you.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

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"Whose dog is this?" Burt asks for the fiftieth time, shoving the little terrier with his foot, trying to move him away from the barbeque.

The answer is a resounding shrug, as the extended family glance up from their magazines and books to laugh at Burt's struggle. They're all at Carole's brother's place in San Diego, enjoying the relative warmth while the rest of America freezes. With nothing to occupy their big backyard, the family hasn't made any efforts to rid it of the small, friendly dog who has recently started to visit. He's perfectly well behaved, collar-less and obviously in need of a home, which unfortunately they're not equipped to supply. Fortunately, he never does anything more annoying than stare beseechingly whenever food is being prepared. That characteristic alone, however, is getting Burt increasingly frustrated, and he's looking unnerved as he flips over the two fillets of fish, being prepared for the non-turkey eaters in the family.

"C'mon, little guy. I got nothing for you. Go talk to someone else."

The dog refuses to look away, blinking twice while his eyes follow Burt's gesturing hand.

Blaine eventually takes mercy on Burt, coming to stand beside him and offering a beer in exchange for the tongs.

"I know he understands what I'm saying," Burt mutters as he steps back, relinquishing anding Blaine the tongs, and Blaine just chuckles in reply. The dog has carefully watched the exchange of utensils and is now focussed on Blaine.

"You're a smart little boy, aren't you?" Blaine coos, smiling down at the dog. "Very curious about what's going on up here, right? I could be making you food. I could be cooking a giant squid. I could not be doing anything and just want to tease you. But you, little dog, are never, ever going to know."

"He can't understand you, Blaine," Kurt calls over, his tone gently teasing.

"You know exactly what I'm saying, don't you?" he continues, pointedly ignoring his boyfriend, "You with the big, curious eyes and cute, curious ears. You're like curious George, aren't you?"

The dog wags his tail, and Blaine beams in delight.

"George, huh? Is that who you are? Hmm, I see. Our little curious George."

On the other side of the yard, Kurt watches with a frown. Blaine bends down, petting the dog and grinning too wide and too happy as it snuffles at his palm. Kurt sighs in pre-meditated defeat. He knows exactly how this is going to end.

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**A/N: In case you're wondering, George is a border terrier. Particular pictures of him relating to this fic can be found on my tumblr.**


	2. Apartment Keys

**George**

**chapter 2: Apartment Keys**

**_by padfoot_**

* * *

**This was written as a Christmas present for midnightfeather. Many thanks to her for firstly prompting me to write it, and secondly for giving me permission to share it with all of you.**

**Disclaimer: Still not mine.**

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"Surprise!" Blaine declares, throwing his arms up in the air.

Kurt stares at him with eyebrows raised when nothing seems to happen.

As the silence stretches on, Blaine falters, lowering his arms and shifting on the couch to try to peer into the kitchen.

"I said, _surprise_!" he tries again, saying the last word pointedly. Still, nothing happens. He gives Kurt an apologetic look, and says, "We really did practice this. George was great every other time. It must be nerves."

"Of course," Kurt nods, trying not to be too transparently sarcastic. "Stage fright must be a real problem for your dog."

Blaine shoots him a withering look before turning back to the kitchen and calling again, this time with, "George! Come here, little boy. You have a Christmas present I need to give to Kurt. George!"

A small, black nose pokes over the top of the separating wall that splits the kitchen and the living room of Blaine's apartment. It is closely followed by a fuzzy black snout and two wide eyes, and then two paws are propped up on the sill.

"Isn't there a bench behind that wall?" Kurt asks.

"Yep," Blaine answers. "George can jump pretty high. Come here, boy!"

With that final encouragement, George pulls himself over the top of the wall and leaps down onto the floor, landing with a clatter of nails and a jangle of dog-tags. He slips and slides on the floorboards for a few moments before gaining his footing and jogging over to Blaine, stopping at the foot of the couch to stare inquisitively up at the two men sitting there.

Kurt glances at Blaine, who gestures for George to jump up and join them. The dog settles between them, and then stares once more at Blaine, waiting for further orders.

"Merry Christmas!" Blaine announces, and George follows his master's gaze as he looks back at Kurt.

Politely silent for a long minute, Kurt absently reaches out to pet George's head.

"I don't get it. Are you giving me your dog? Because that's really sweet, but I honestly don't think that Rachel-" Kurt breaks off, eyeing George disdainfully as he extracts a leaf from his wiry fur.

"No," Blaine laughs. "Look on his collar. That's what I'm giving you."

Kurt's eyebrows furrow as he fiddles with George's collar, the dog holding mercifully still while Kurt carefully removes it. He sits back onto the couch once he's got the collar off, staring at the tags with a strange expression. The normal dog tag is there, engraved with 'Curious George' and a tiny dog paw. But there is another piece of metal hanging there. One suspiciously shiny and key-shaped. Without speaking, Kurt separates the key from the collar, letting it sit in his palm, feeling the cool weight of it against his skin.

"Is this a key to your apartment?" he finally asks.

Blaine is biting his lip, trying to hold in a smile.

"Well, I've been talking to George," he says, glancing at the dog, "And we both agreed that maybe we should give you that. I mean, maybe you should have a key for here. So that maybe you could move in too and... live with us. For good. If you want."

Kurt is gaping, Blaine is looking nervous and George is wagging his tail.

"What do you think?" Blaine prompts, when Kurt is silent for too long.

"I think..." Kurt starts, his lips curving into a smile, "I'm going to have to get you a much better Christmas present."


	3. Snow Angel

**George**

**chapter 3: Snow Angel**

**_by padfoot_**

* * *

**This was written as a Christmas present for midnightfeather. Many thanks to her for firstly prompting me to write it, and secondly for giving me permission to share it with all of you.**

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, still not mine.**

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The snow angel incident is a tale passed down in their family, told to gaping children and laughing parents on cold nights as Kurt and Blaine settle onto the couch together. It's not a dramatic story, nor is it an exciting one. Just one of plain, simple fun.

Until the day he dies, Kurt will swear that it went like this:

On an innocuous Saturday morning, he had left Blaine with George by the edge of the park, waving goodbye as he went to buy hot chocolate while Blaine entertained the dog. When Kurt had left, Blaine had been eyeing George and George had been eyeing squirrels, just like always. As Kurt had turned his back, he'd heard Blaine's murmured, "Go on then," and George's delighted little bark as he shot off across the pristine snow, bounding happily after whichever small woodland creature he'd decided to terrorise today.

And then Kurt had gotten their hot chocolates – waited in line and smiled at the barista server like always – before heading back to the park. It was what he saw there that he will never, ever forget.

Blaine was lying in the snow, arms and legs sweeping back and forth as a small crowd of children watched on, before a couple laid down to follow his snow-angel-making example. Nearby Beside him, George sat back on his haunches, his expression as curious as that of the children. And then it happened.

George flopped down on to his stomach, and began wriggling forward, tongue lolling out in a please grin and paws breast-stroking at the snow in front of him. It was utterly undeniable. The dog was making a snow angel.

Kurt moved closer, stopping to bend down beside Blaine, who turned to him with a bright smile and said, "Kurt, look – we've raised a genius."


	4. Engagement Ring

**George**

**chapter 4: Engagement Ring**

**_by padfoot_**

* * *

**This was written as a Christmas present for midnightfeather. Many thanks to her for firstly prompting me to write it, and secondly for giving me permission to share it with all of you.**

**Disclaimer: Nope. Not mine.**

* * *

Kurt knows that look on Blaine. He knows the nervous lip-biting and the frantic finger-drumming and the way George stays by his side at all times, as if he too is infected with Blaine's anxiousness.

"Stop making me nervous," Kurt whines, and Blaine laughs tightly and glances down at George, steady and sure on his heels as Blaine frets around the living room, lighting candles and dimming lights.

He brings out a box of chocolates and two glasses of champagne – the nice champagne that came in a fancy box from his father when he graduated from NYADA – sitting them on the coffee table before disappearing into the kitchen again. George's little nails are tap-tap-tapping on the floorboards as he follows, never leaving his master's side. Kurt settles back on the couch, unwilling to touch the champagne or the chocolates because something is clearly going on and he's not sure if he should be worried or excited. He can see over the separating wall as Blaine opens a kitchen cupboard and pulls out the packet of dog food, and he can hear the clang of dog biscuits being dropped into George's metal bowl.

When Blaine comes back into the living room, George is no longer trailing him, now occupied with his dinner in the kitchen.

"Are we alone now?" Kurt asks, aiming to ease the palpable tension in the room.

Blaine doesn't seem to get the hint, just nodding stiffly as he sits beside Kurt.

"Have some champagne," he suggests, gesturing to Kurt's glass but not touching his own.

"I'd rather not," Kurt admits, "Because you're making me incredibly nervous and I'm sort of worried that it's poisoned or something."

He's relieved when Blaine manages a small smile at that, and so he reaches out to grab Blaine's hand, trapping his fingers to stop them drumming on his knee.

"What's going on Blaine? Talk to me."

Blaine lets out a breath, and his whole body sort of sags with it. He wets his lips with a sweep of his tongue, shuffles on the couch and shoots a nervous glance towards the Christmas tree, the small stack of presents beneath it.

"I got you something," Blaine blurts, very quickly. He ducks his head with a nervous smile and tries again, looking Kurt square in the eyes. "I got you a- uh. Well, a Christmas present, I guess. And I wasn't sure if you'd be ready-" he cuts himself off, looks down again, then back to Kurt, "-if you'd like it. Because it's sort of... not really a-uh, um... _normal_ present. I mean, usually I get you scarves and stuff and- and this isn't that."

Kurt tries to look kind and tries to be calm, but his heart is hammering in his chest, too caught up in Blaine's anxious ranting.

"This is something that I've wanted to give you for a while – forever, really, if I think about it, ever since I met you – but we needed to go through a lot of stuff to get here, to be the- the men that we are now and to have the relationship that we have now. I'm not saying that everything we went through was good, but- but it all _happened_, you know? It all got us here and... well, here is great. Here is wonderful. Here is-"

"Here is perfect," Kurt assures, fingers still pressing against Blaine's on his knee.

"Right. But, I've also sort of been thinking that- that moving forward from here might be kind of great too. There's so many things I want to do with my life and I don't know what the future holds, but well, Kurt- I know – I've _always_ known, I think – that I want you to be there for everything. For all my life. For every second of my future."

"I will be," Kurt vows, the words falling so easily, so obviously from his lips. Because of course he'll be there for Blaine forever. _Of course._

"Right," Blaine licks his lips again, and then pulls his hand away from Kurt's to stand and walk over to the tree. From behind the stack of presents, he pulls out one little gift – a small, cubic thing, wrapped in boring dark paper, as if it were intended not to be seen. He moves back towards Kurt, stopping in front of the couch. Dropping down onto one knee there in front of his boyfriend, the little wrapped box held up in both hands.

"Kurt," Blaine says, and by now Kurt is feeling light-headed, half-sure that he's going to faint because this can't be happening, this _can't_ be happening, but _God_ he so, so wants it to be. "You are perfect. And nothing could make me happier or make my life more perfect than you being in it forever. Properly. As my husband. So, Kurt Hummel, will you ma-"

"Yes!"

Kurt's answer is a sob and a shriek as he jumps onto his boyfriend – _fiancé _– and Blaine is laughing and crying and murmuring, "You didn't let me finish," against Kurt's lips as he kisses him once, twice, a thousand times because he _can _now, Kurt wants him to, for the rest of their lives. And they're probably both crying a bit and Blaine is ripping off the boring paper that the box is wrapped in and Kurt is arranged somehow on his lap, both of them curled up in each and staring in silent awe as the little box is revealed and opened and _oh, God_ the ring is perfect and Kurt is crying now, really, truly crying with tears on his cheeks and big, happy smile on his face.

"I love you," Blaine says, his face buried in Kurt's neck. "I meant to say it somewhere in that speech, but then I think I panicked and forgot. But, _Kurt_, I love you so much. I'll love you forever. I love you, I _love_ you, _I love you_."

It's such a mess of emotion and wet tears and too many hands trying to find each other: Blaine trying to pull the ring out of the box and Kurt trying to remember which hand he's supposed to put it on, because things like that fall straight out of your head when you're actually _there_ and _being proposed to_. But somehow it all sorts itself out and Blaine and Kurt are still wrapped up in each other on the floor, a ring sitting securely around Kurt's finger and Blaine's fingers weaving and touching and caressing it, as if he can't quite believe it's going to be there forever. As tends to happen at times like these, Kurt can't help but think that none of this feels real. Surely he'll wake up in the morning and this will all have been a dream.

But then George comes bounding out of the kitchen, seeing the pile of bodies on the living room floor and leaping in to join the fray. And all Kurt can feel is George's rough tongue licking his face and Blaine's hands gripping his hard, Blaine's face buried in his neck and _yes_, Kurt thinks, _this is it._ This is what family feels like. This is the start of the rest of his life.


	5. Santa

**George**

**chapter 5: Santa**

**_by padfoot_**

* * *

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

**A/N: A big thank you to Danny Phntom's Lover who reminded me that I hadn't finished posting the chapter for this! And, of course, thank you to midnightfeather, who all of this was written for.**

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"Whose dog is this?"

**Santa**

It is Lizzie's fifth Christmas ever, her Daddies had said. And so, Kurt whispers in her ear, "Santa is coming to visit."

Lizzie is shocked for a moment.

"All Daddy Blaine ever talks about is meeting Santa, and now he isn't going to be here for it!"

Thankfully, her distress is short-lived. When Santa comes through the door, a few minutes later, she forgets it entirely.

"Santa!" she shouts, leaping off the couch and sprinting over to him. She throws herself into Santa's arms and squeals in delight as he picks her up and spins her around, walking them back towards the couch. Santa groans like Daddy Blaine always does, propping her against his big, soft belly and saying in a deep and gravelly voice, "My, you're heavy! How old are you, forty?"

"I'm only four, Santa!" she answers, showing him three fingers.

Helpfully, Santa reaches over to curve another of her fingers up, counting out the four of them before groaning again and putting her down.

"This is my Daddy," Lizzie introduces, tugging Kurt up so that Santa can meet him properly. Santa shakes Kurt's hand, and Lizzie likes how much they smile at each other. Santa seems really nice.

"And I have another Daddy too, but he's not here right now. And also there's Gorge. Gorge! Come meet Santa!"

The little dog comes trotting over from the kitchen. He spares a quick look for Lizzie and Kurt, before turning to Santa and moving close to sniff at his feet.

"Gorge is very friendly," Lizzie informs Santa.

Santa looks nervous, but nods anyway. Maybe he's frightened of dogs.

Lizzie jumps and lets out a shocked scream when George gives a little snarl, his tiny teeth grabbing onto the bottom of Santa's pants and pulling. Santa stumbles back a few steps, but then George takes a running jump and grabs onto Santa's beard, just the end of it where it's hanging over his belly.

"No, George!" Daddy Kurt calls, lunging forward to pull the dog away, shoving him onto the couch.

But the damage is done. Santa is gone.

Instead, Daddy Blaine stands in his place, wearing a silly big suit and a floppy red hat, his expression sheepish as he scratches his head.

"Daddy," Lizzie murmurs, glancing over at George, now lying comfortably on the couch with a satisfied expression, "Why did Gorge eat Santa?"

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**A/N: Right, status update:**

**For all the usual reasons (real life, work, Glee being uninspiring), along with a tumblr breakdown (meaning me breaking down and taking it out on tumblr, not vice versa) things have meant that I'm not writing a lot of fanfiction now. What that means is that as soon as I can, I'll post everything that has been in transit, and then stop. Mostly that's pieces that I wanted to write prequels or sequels for, but never got around to it. Then, as per usual, I'll disappear for a while, and likely reappear when Glee gets good or when I read/see something else and feel inspired. So watch this space, please. I promise I'm not going anywhere.**


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